Chapter 5 LESSONS IN MOONFIRE
The training courtyard was nothing like Aria expected.
She’d imagined a battlefield—stone, weapons, sweat, warriors clashing under a merciless sky. Instead, she stood barefoot in a quiet circle of frost-kissed grass, surrounded by tall pines and a silence so deep it almost felt sacred. The morning air held a sharp coldness, the kind that woke every nerve.
Seris stood beside her, wrapped in a dark cloak, taking careful notes on a smooth slate board. Kael watched from a shadowed stone pillar, arms crossed, unreadable.
And across from her—Roman.
No throne. No crown. No armor.
Just the Alpha King, sleeves rolled up, boots planted firmly, every inch of him controlled and terrifyingly calm.
“Magic isn’t a force,” he said. “It’s a reaction.”
Aria swallowed. “A reaction to what?”
“To you,” he said. “To your will. To your fear. To your pulse. You cannot control it until you understand it.”
She glanced down at her arms.
The silver veins had returned.
Brighter today.
Alive.
“I don’t understand it,” she admitted.
“You will,” Roman said. “Stand still.”
She stood still.
Or tried to.
Her heart pounded too loudly. Her skin tingled, prickling with moonfire, that strange soft-burning sensation she couldn’t quite name. The sky was pale, but the moon still hung low, faint and ghostly in its corner of the morning.
She felt it watching.
Roman stepped a little closer.
Not touching.
But close.
Too close.
“Breathe,” he said.
She did.
In, out. In, out.
Her wolf stirred. Not anxious. Not afraid.
Alert.
Roman’s voice dropped lower, steady as heartbeat. “Fear keeps it dormant. Anger ignites it. Control… makes it choose.”
“I don’t want it to choose,” she whispered.
“It already has,” he said. “It woke for you. It didn’t have to.”
A breeze swept between them, ruffling her hair. Roman’s stood perfectly still, as if even the wind had manners around him.
“Close your eyes.”
She hesitated… then did.
She felt the air. The frost beneath her feet. The faint rustle of pine needles and Seris’s slate scratching softly. She felt Kael watching. She felt—
Him.
Without seeing, she knew Roman had moved again.
Closer.
The bond hummed—soft, steady, pulling at something deep in her chest.
Aria’s veins pulsed.
“Moonfire,” Roman murmured. “Let it rise.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because it feels like falling,” she whispered. “Like losing myself.”
Roman’s reply was soft, but firm. “Then learn to fall with direction.”
Her pulse jumped.
Another breath.
Another heartbeat.
Moonfire stirred—warm, but not burning. Like sunlight and shadow at once.
She swallowed. “I feel it.”
“Good,” Roman said. “Now hold it.”
“How?”
He stepped behind her.
Not touching.
But the air shifted.
He was close enough to feel.
Close enough to hear.
“Make it listen to you,” he murmured.
Aria’s eyes stayed shut. “It doesn’t listen. It tries to consume.”
“Then teach it who it belongs to.”
Her breath caught.
She didn’t open her eyes.
She didn’t move.
She didn’t know when her hands began to glow.
Silver light seeped through her fingertips, threads of moonlight swirling, soft and quiet, like mist curling through her veins.
Seris gasped softly.
Kael straightened.
Roman didn’t move.
“It responds to you,” he said quietly, pride carefully hidden behind control. “Not because it’s wild. Because it recognizes you.”
“It’s not mine,” Aria whispered.
“It’s not,” Roman agreed. “But it chose you.”
Her throat tightened.
In that moment, the moonfire didn’t feel hungry or dangerous.
It felt…
Alive.
Then—
She felt something else.
A flicker.
A tremor.
Something dark slipping beneath the silver light.
Not wild.
Not free.
Afraid.
Her heart lurched. The power wavered.
Her eyes flew open.
The glow fizzled.
The cold rushed back in.
Roman watched her—not disappointed.
Not surprised.
Just… patient.
“You felt it,” he said.
She nodded, breath shaky. “It wasn’t dangerous. It was—”
“Scared,” Roman finished.
Aria shivered. “Magic can be afraid?”
“It’s not magic,” he said. “It’s memory.”
That sent a chill up her spine.
Seris lowered her slate, voice cautious. “You mean… the last Luna Queen?”
Roman didn’t answer.
Not directly.
He looked at Aria instead.
“There are things it remembers that you don’t," he said. “Echoes. Imprints. Every Luna born of the Eclipse leaves pieces of herself behind. Some beautiful. Some… not.”
A memory flickered in Aria’s mind.
Flames.
Screams.
A throne burning.
She gasped, stumbling back, hand flying to her chest.
“Stop,” she whispered. “I don’t want to see—”
“You must.” Roman’s voice was softer now, but harder in truth. “Because one day it will force itself through whether you want it or not. And if you don’t know how to face it—you’ll break.”
Silence fell.
Even the wind stopped.
Seris looked between them, eyes sharp. “She means more to the prophecy than we thought.”
Kael’s low voice came from the shadows. “Or the prophecy means more to her.”
Aria stood there, heart pounding, silver fading from her veins.
Roman watched her.
Not coldly.
Not kindly.
Just honestly.
He stepped closer.
Close enough to break the distance—but not close enough to use it.
“Aria,” he said quietly. “Do you want to survive this?”
She nodded.
“Then stop wishing to be ordinary,” he said. “You cannot carry moonfire and be small at the same time.”
The words hit deeper than they should.
Something stirred that wasn’t fear this time.
Something stubborn.
Something ancient.
Roman stepped back, giving her space.
“Again,” he said.
She stared.
“You want me to do it again? Already?”
His gaze held hers. “You didn’t break.”
“And if I do?”
“Then we’ll try again.” His expression didn’t change. “Until you don’t.”
Her hands trembled.
Just a little.
But this time—not from fear.
She closed her eyes.
And the moonfire came easier.